How Short He Fell
by People Person I'm Not
Summary: Loki has always lived in Thor's shadow, always been second to his brother. And it hurts.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings for the fic: spoilers for both Thor movies and Avengers, possibly some swearing, and timeline/canon butchering. Anything else, I'll let you guys know in those chapters. Also, no ownsies. Unfortunately. Sorta would like to own Loki. I only own the ideas. **

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It only took one look at his perfect brother to realize how short he fell. How he could never be the perfect prince everyone wanted him to be, expected him to be. His brother even looked the part of the golden boy—literally golden, with that blond hair and perfectly tanned skin. In contrast, he was pale, black hair creating a stark contrast against such pale skin. No wonder he was meant for nothing more than to be subservient to his brother, always meant to be the underling.

Thor may have been bigger, stronger, the better fighter, but Loki was lean, quick, and there was, of course, the magic. But no one could see his strengths, blinded as they were by all of his brother's shining glory. There was never any love for Loki.

It was small wonder, really, that he had turned out as he had. Loki had always craved affection and the sort of adoration that Thor received, and there was none of that for him, no way to get it, on Asgard. And so he had been forced to go and find a race who would give him that affection he craved, in some form or another. He wanted to be someone, be important, be _loved_. He had always been second to Thor, for as long as he could remember.

_The two toddlers dashed through the halls, laughing gleefully and crashing purposefully into each other. There were no adults around—they were all at a huge feast being given for a visiting warrior. Thor and Loki had not been permitted to attend due to their young age. They were supposed to be in their chambers preparing for bed, but the two hyper children had tricked their nursemaid and slipped out to take advantage of the empty halls. They were rarely allowed to run and play in those halls because of the other people who used them, so the time was a rare treat._

_Earlier in the day, while the boys had been in their individual lessons, Thor had been introduced to the warrior for whom such honors were being taken, a man named Eirill. He had returned glowing with excitement and bubbling over with stories he had been told and how he was going to be a great warrior someday too, and Loki had pushed away his spellbook with resentment and wished, just a little, that he could be that way as well, be like his brother._

_But now he ran with Thor, keeping pace with ease, despite his shorter legs, and he was having fun. The sound of their laughter resonated against the walls, amplified because of them, and covered the sound of approaching footsteps. Loki ran into a pair of legs and stumbled backwards, noting that Thor had stopped when he did, although of his own choice, instead of a forced stop. Loki glanced up into the face of his father and gulped. They were in trouble now, he was sure. His nervousness increased when he saw next to Odin a man who could only be the warrior Eirill._

_Eirill nodded at Thor. "Hello again, little prince. You seem to have been enjoying yourself." Thor nodded eagerly, and Eirill glanced at Loki. "And who is your friend? A child of one of the servants? It is good for you to become comfortable dealing with those below you in class, although becoming friends with them as you appear to have done is not such a good idea. The lad will get ideas above his station."_

_Thor frowned, confused, but Loki understood the warrior's words all too well, and they stung. What hurt worse, though, was that Odin, his own father, held his tongue and didn't step in to correct Eirill's mistake._

_Eirill looked gently at Thor. "Tell your little friend to run back to the servants' quarters and stay there, where he belongs. He has no place befriending a prince. Send him away and we will have a talk for royals."_

_Loki saw comprehension dawning on Thor's face, and the blond prince stomped his foot. "Loki is my brother!" he snapped._

_The look on Eirill's face shattered Loki's heart. It was the look of one who didn't understand how one like Loki, of all people, could possibly be brother to one like Thor. Most people, the dark-haired toddler was sure, were warned ahead of time about the difference between the boys, and that they were, in fact, brothers, but Loki could tell that Odin had never intended for his second son to actually meet Eirill. Loki was just meant to be a well-kept secret, the figure in the shadows who was only paraded put when it couldn't be avoided. Nothing like Thor._

Loki shook his head angrily, furious at himself for remembering. They all knew who he was now, a figure as well-known as Thor, albeit for completely different things. But he could live with that. He was no longer the figure in the shadows, no longer the one who was meant to exist only as a hidden and secret man. He stood now in the light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unfortunately, this is based off real events :( One of my closest friends did the same to me, but the letter was longer. So...yeah.**

**Much thanks to anon and Vidgealz C Valvatore for their reviews.**

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He had really only ever had Thor, his brother his only friend. No one had wanted to be friends with Loki, with the shadowed younger brother. Thor's friends had tolerated him, since he was the younger brother of one of theirs, but no more than that.

He had had another friend once, or so he had thought. The other boy, Mottull, the smith's son, had listened to him, made him laugh, had made him feel wanted.

_"Hey, Loki, come on!" Mottull shouted, bursting into Loki's room. The dark-haired prince looked up from his new poetry book, a belated nameday present from Odin, one of the many books the court had scrambled to get for him, from various sources, most likely forgotten bookshelves in their own apartments-they had all forgotten his nameday, except Thor, and when his brother had made a big deal of throwing Loki a party, they had all been shamed into joining in. Books were the best present to get him-no one thought that maybe the quiet, studious boy would like to train alongside his brother, so while Thor on his namedays received weapons and armor, anything suitable for the warrior he was to become, Loki received books and the like, as he was one of the few Asgardians with a proper thirst for knowledge, not just warfare. Not that he was complaining, but something different would also be nice._

_"What is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. The book was fascinating, a Midgardian epic called Beowulf, and he had stayed up all night reading. _

_"Your nameday present is done," Mottull announced. He claimed to have not forgotten Loki's nameday, insisting instead that his present just wasn't ready. Loki hadn't been sure he believed his friend, but at least he was making an effort, more than could be said for most everyone else._

_Mottull led Loki through the halls until they reached a large metal door. Loki knew full well what laid behind those doors-the armory, one of the few rooms he rarely, if ever, entered. There was nothing for him there; he had been kicked out before. But this time Mottull led him in, and Loki felt as if he was in the right place._

_"Close your eyes," Mottull commanded, and Loki did so. "Hold out your hand," came the next command, and he followed that as well. _

_A cool weight, something metal, was laid in Loki's hand, and he opened his eyes. He was holding a slim dagger, the hilt dark green and black. _

_"I had Father make it especially for you," Mottull explained excitedly. "I noticed that you didn't have any weapons, so I thought you might like one."_

_Loki grinned. "Thank you," he replied. "I like it very much."_

The boys had gotten on fantastically, Loki ignoring the startling changes in his friend's behavior. He had gotten moodier, quicker to anger, yelling one day at Thor, causing Loki to yell back, and then, one day, he had just stopped talking to Loki all together.

_Loki walked up to Mottull. "What happened?" he asked. "Why are you ignoring me? What changed?"_

_Mottull, naturally, didn't answer, but the next morning he found a note outside his door, written in Mottull's blocky handwriting._

**_You asked what changed. You did. You spread those rumors about me and my "anger issues" which, by the way, you caused. You accused me of mistreating your brother. All of this, _all_ of it, is on you. You tore me up, then lied about it, insisting you did nothing. You were one of the only people I trusted, and you betrayed that. Maybe we can still be friends, but it's going to take a while._  
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_Loki stared, confused, at the letter. He didn't even know what Mottull was talking about. What rumors? What betrayal? He had tried his best to be a good friend, but apparently that wasn't enough. The only thing that he could think of that might have made Mottull mad was complain to Thor and his friends about the hastiness of Mottull's anger after he had taken out his rage on Thor._

That was Loki's last attempt to have a friend. He decided that the pain wasn't worth it. He had only been hurt.


End file.
